


My Alien Abduction

by dsa_archivist



Category: The X-Files, due South
Genre: Crossover, Humor, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-13
Updated: 2000-01-13
Packaged: 2018-11-11 01:14:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11138295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: RayK tries to deal with the revelation made in "Seeing is Believing" (minor spoilers for that ep) and receives some unusual visitors.





	My Alien Abduction

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Title: My Alien Abduction

Comments: This is a xover -- DS/XF. However, seeing as I haven't written  
any XF fic before, (because I can't, not because I don't want too {g}),  
the people involved are _very_ out of character. It's intentional.  
Mostly. I'm sorry. Don't hate me.

Rating: PG (nothing but insinuation  
and a little mild cursing)

Warning: Slash. Don't like, don't  
read it.

Pairing: F/K (assumes a pre-existing relationship)

Disclaimer: Not mine, please don't sue, blah blah blah.

Feedback: Will be greatly appreciated, good or bad. You can email me  
at.

* * *

Something was wrong with Ray.

Fraser couldn't put his finger on it, but his partner had been much more  
antagonistic than usual over the past week. He'd come perilously close  
to being slapped by Frannie, he'd almost gotten into a fist fight with  
Dewey, and he'd made Huey cry. Lieutenant Welsh had called him into his  
office four times to reprimand him.

It wasn't just his attitude at work, either. He hadn't wanted to go out  
for dinner or to movies or even for late night poker games at the Consulate.

Fraser was getting worried. And frustrated. They hadn't even kissed in  
over a week, and he was getting a little antsy himself. He'd actually  
snapped at Turnbull the other day. Well, snapped with a little more venom  
than usual. It had taken him almost half an hour to talk the sobbing  
Mountie out of the W.C.

Something had to be done.

"What?"

Startled, Fraser looked up to see Ray glaring at him. "Pardon?"

"I said what. As in, what's with the stupid stare?" Ray sat down at his  
desk and hauled a laptop out of the sports bag he'd been holding. "You've  
been moping a lot lately."

"Me?" Fraser watched as Ray laboriously untangled the massive knot of  
cords and began sticking them into seemingly random sockets.

"Yeah. Dief sick or somethin'? I can't think of any other reason you'd  
be sittin' around looking so forlorn." He grunted in exasperation, yanked  
all the plugs out, and tried again.

"Forlorn?"

"Yeah, you know. Forlorn. Sad and abandoned. In a pitiful state." Ray  
finally got the cords arranged to his satisfaction and hit a button on  
the back of the laptop. Nothing happened. "Damn."

Fraser helpfully held up a loose plug. "Might it help if this were plugged  
into the wall?"

Ray glared at him. "I was gettin' to that." He plugged it in and hit  
the button again. This time, there was a beep and the laptop whirred  
to life.

"I assure you, I'm not forlorn."

"Mmhmm," Ray muttered distractedly, cautiously poking a few keys.

"Might I ask what the computer is for?" Fraser leaned over and tried  
to see the screen.

Ray shifted it slightly so he couldn't. "I borrowed it from Stella. She  
was always more techie than me. I decided it was time to get on the in'nernet.  
Join the uh, cyber-revolution. Hitchhike the  
information speedway." He shrugged. "Everyone's doin' it, Fraser."

"Oh, I don't think--"

" _Everyone's_ doin' it, Fraser. Okay?"

Fraser shook his head. "Okay."

"Besides, you can find information on anything on here."

"You have a need for information?" Fraser leaned over a little more and  
Ray shifted away again.

"'S it so hard to believe I wanna improve my mind? Huh?" Ray frowned  
and tapped a key. Nothing seemed to happen. He hit it three more times  
in rapid succession. "Damn."

"Certainly not. I'm well aware of your need for intellectual stimulation."

"Stimulation." Ray snorted, and Fraser rolled his eyes, secretly pleased  
that Ray was enough of his usual self to be amused.

"However," he continued, "the Internet might not be the best place to  
look--"

Fraser was cut off by a grunt, followed by a flurry of  
typing. There was a pause and Ray looked up from the keyboard, panting."Why  
not?"

"It's not the most reliable source. Have you been to the  
local public library lately, Ray?"

"Yeah, thanks Frase, I do read. But the stuff I'm looking for isn't exactly  
the kinda thing I can just waltz in and ask the sweet little old librarian  
for."

"Actually, Ray, I believe Mr. Chan is quite young, although he certainly  
is sweet." He paused. "Pornography?"

Ray looked sharply at him. "What?"

"Well, I just assumed. . ."

"No! No, Fraser, I am not lookin' up porn." His cheeks flushed just a  
little. "Not at work, anyway." He stared back at the screen, then groaned  
and let his head drop to rest on the keyboard.

The computer beeped twice, then buzzed loudly as the modem connected.

Ray looked up in surprise, his forehead imprinted with a line of  
squares. "Hey. . ." He glanced at Fraser. "See? I know what I'm doin'."

"Of course you do." Fraser leaned over a little more and almost fell  
out of his chair. "And that would be. . .?"

"Christ, yer nosy." Ray sighed. "Fine. I'll tell you. But only so you  
can help me with this. And if you laugh, I'll kill you."

"Understood."

"Okay." Ray took a deep breath. "You remember that nightmare I had the  
other week?"

Fraser thought back. He'd been at Ray's apartment, watching TV. Curling,  
to be precise. He'd just dozed off, (not that he'd ever admit that to  
anyone -- falling asleep in the middle of a bonspiel? The shame!) when  
he'd been awoken by Ray thrashing around in his arms.

Which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, except that Ray was fast asleep  
and screaming.

He'd gotten Ray calmed down and put him to bed, but he'd had to leave  
for work early in the morning and hadn't gotten a chance to ask his partner  
about it.

"Fraser?" Ray was staring strangely at him.

Fraser nodded quickly. "I remember."

"Well, I've been having more of 'em. And I can't take it anymore."

"But what--"

"What are they about?" Ray sighed. "It's so stupid."

"Anything that upsets you so much isn't stupid."

Ray sighed again. "Aliens."

"Aliens?"

"See? It's stupid." Ray dropped his head to stare at the keyboard. "You  
remember when you hypnotised us? Ya told me I'd been abducted by aliens  
as a kid. Well, it didn't bother me then. I figured if they thought I  
was interestin' enough to abduct. . . fine. Cool. I'm special, right?"  
He snorted. "But lately I've been having these really freaky dreams about  
aliens and spaceships and stuff." He looked up and met Fraser's concerned  
stare. "I think it's cause we went to see Star Wars. It reminded me."

Fraser couldn't help it -- he smiled.

Ray scowled at him. "I knew you'd laugh. That's why I'm goin' online.  
I'm gonna talk to people who've had similar experiences. People who won't  
laugh."

"I'm sorry, Ray. I know it isn't funny. And I'd be glad  
to help. I know you aren't the world's fastest typist. . ."

"Yeah, thanks, mock me then insult my typing ability."

"Well. . ."

"Just cause you're right doesn't mean it doesn't hurt." Ray took a deep  
breath then slid the laptop over in front of Fraser and shuffled his  
chair around to sit beside him. "So? Go ahead."

"Thank you." Fraser cracked his neck, laced his fingers in front of him  
and stretched, then dropped his hands to the keyboard. "Now, let's see.  
. . aliens, abductions, personal experiences. . ." His fingers raced  
over the keys so fast he noticed a wisp of smoke rising from  
the internal workings of the computer. He slowed his speed just  
slightly. "Here we are. A message board: 'My Alien Abduction'," he read  
aloud. "It seems to be a place where people can post about their abduction  
experiences -- just what you wanted."

Ray looked suspiciously at the screen. "How do I know this isn't some  
big joke? That there aren't a coupla twelve year-olds sittin' at a computer  
somewhere snickering as people spill their guts?"

"Well, even if it isn't a joke, people could still conceivably come to  
snicker, Ray. Which is why you're given the option to post under a pseudonym."

"Oh. Cool. Like uh. . ." His brow furrowed.

Fraser waited patiently.

"Big Red."

" _No._ "

"Why not?" Ray looked pleadingly at him. "Nobody'll know who we really  
are."

"This is your search, not mine."

"You just don't want people to think you're a freak," Ray  
grumbled. "Little do you know they just have to _look_ at ya to

see. . ."

Fraser smiled slightly and waited for Ray to finish.

"Okay. Fine," said Ray finally. "Terry."

"Terry?"

"It's the name of my turtle." Ray tapped his fingers impatiently. "Let's  
go! Post away!"

"I thought your turtle's name was Fraser."

The tapping sped up. "How the _hell_ did you find. . ." He sighed  
heavily. "Besides, I named him _before_ we uh. . . you know. And  
Terry was my first turtle. Just shut up." A glare. "And wipe that grin  
off your face."

Fraser smirked. "Absolutely. Now. . . this is  
a post from Terry of Chicago, looking to connect with other people to  
talk to online about alien abduction experiences?"

"Yeah. Sounds good. Post that sucker."

Fraser tapped a few keys and sat back. "There. Now all you have to do  
is wait."

"Wait. I hate waitin'."

"You know, it's almost time to go, and I think there's more curling on  
TV tonight." Fraser looked expectantly at Ray. "And Turnbull's  
booked the TV at the Consulate because wrestling is on. I don't know  
what he sees in it. . . it's clearly fake."

Ray smiled. "Don't be silly, Fraser. 'Course it's real." He growled and  
flexed. "Think I could be a wrestler?"

"Terry the Torturer and his Turtle of Death? I don't think so."

Ray grinned. "And in the other corner, Big Red and his Wolf o' Doom.  
It'd be great."

Fraser shook his head. "Curling?" he suggested again.

Ray grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. "So let's go to my  
place. Don't wanna miss a second of that hot curling action."

* * *

Fifteen minutes after the end of the hot curling action, Fraser was lying  
contentedly beside Ray -- well, partly beneath him, and partly on top,  
but mostly beside -- just about to drift off to sleep.

Ray purred slightly and snuggled closer.

There was a deafeningly loud knock at the door that seemed to bypass  
Fraser's ears and go straight to the pit of his stomach. He sat bolt  
upright, rolling Ray off onto the floor.

". . .rrg . . . wha. . ." Ray muttered sleepily, hauling himself slowly  
up to his knees by grasping the blanket hand over hand.

"There's someone at the door." Fraser looked at the glowing digital clock-face  
beside Ray's bed. "It's past one."

"That was some bonspiel, huh?" Ray murmured with a contented grin, still  
half-asleep.

Fraser swung his feet over the side of the bed and pulled on the pants  
he'd laid out in the few seconds before Ray had tackled him onto the  
bed earlier that night. "I'll get it."

"'S my house. . ." Ray finally managed to get to his feet and wandered  
toward the door.

"Ray."

The bare feet padded on.

"Ray."

He reached out and grabbed the bedroom doorknob.

"Ray!"

Ray paused and gave him a blurry smile. "Wha--?"

"Ray, you're naked. And while I don't mind. . ." Despite his heart still  
complaining at the rude awakening, and the incessant pounding on the  
door, he let his eyes slide slowly down to Ray's feet and back up, lingering  
along the way. "At _all_ ," he continued, "whoever's at the door  
might."

"Oh. Yeah." He walked back to the bed and let himself  
fall onto the blankets. "You get it."

"My pleasure."

Fraser went out into the main room and walked up to the door. "Hello?"  
he called.

The knocking stopped. "Hello?"

"Who is this?"

"Who's this?"

"Constable Benton Fraser. I first came to Chicago on the trail of the  
killers of my father and have remained--"

"What?"

" _Constable Benton Fraser_ ," Fraser emphasized. " _I_ \--"

"Yeah yeah, we got that.""We?"

There was a brief silence. "Yeah. You going to let us in or make us stand  
in the hall all night?"

"Would you mind identifying yourselves?" Fraser waited.

After a long pause, the voice said quietly, "The Lo...n..m.."

Even Fraser's batlike ears couldn't pick up the words.

"Pardon me?"

"The ...n..g..n.."

"Pardon?"

He was suddenly pulled back from the door as Ray, fully-dressed, shoved  
in front of him, flung the door open, and casually slapped his hand on  
the handle of his gun in its holster. "Hi. You guys wanna ID yourselves?"

The short, balding man stared at him, looked at the gun, then looked  
back at him. "Great. One of these guys."

The tall blond behind him grinned. "Told you he'd be a cop."

"I didn't argue with you, Langly."

They were interrupted by a quiet voice. "I'm Byers." The third member  
of the group stepped forward and stuck out his hand, frowning at his  
compatriots as he did so. "I'm sorry we're disturbing you so late."

Fraser reacted automatically. "Not at all, we weren't asleep anyway."

"Speak for yourself!" Ray kept his hand on his gun. "So? Who are ya?  
And whaddya want?"

The first man glared at Byers. "I'm Frohike. This clown is Langly, and  
the one who's trying to be polite is Byers. We're the Lone Gunmen."

Ray stared at them. "Am I supposed to be impressed?"

Frohike stared coldly back. "Are you going to let us in?"

"Come  
on, I've gotta pee." Langly grinned at them. Byers shook his head.

"They appear harmless, Ray."

"Those are the worst kind, Fraser." Ray sighed. "Fine." He stepped back.  
"Come in, then."

Frohike nodded. "Thanks."

The three men came in and promptly sat down in a row on the couch. Byers  
looked around, studying the apartment. Frohike kept his eyes fixed on  
Ray. Langly tapped on the glass of the turtle's aquarium.

" _Hey._ "  
Ray lunged at him and swatted his hand away. "Don't do that. Besides,  
I thought you said you had t' pee."

Fraser smiled apologetically. "He's touchy about the turtle."

Langly rubbed his hand. "I can see that." He smiled at Ray. "I lied."

Ray made the slightest shift toward moving into a fighting stance, and  
Langly looked mildly disconcerted.

"Can we get to the point, gentlemen?" Frohike leaned forward.

"And what exactly _is_ the point?" Ray paced back and forth across  
the room. Fraser tried to keep out of his way.

"You posted on a messageboard this afternoon, did you not?" Frohike leaned  
forward even farther. " _Terry?_ "

Ray spun around and stared accusingly at Fraser. "You said it was anonymous!"

"I don't think that I did, Ray--"

"I used a pseudonym! So no one'd know who I am!" He whirled the other  
way and smacked his palms on the coffee table directly in front of the  
little man. "How'd you know?" he shouted.

Frohike leaned back slightly. "We have our ways."

Beside him, Langly smirked to himself.

Byers shifted nervously. "We wouldn't have disturbed your privacy if  
it hadn't been absolutely necessary."

"We had to get here first," Langly added with a shrug. "You gotta do  
what you gotta do. And you should be glad we did."

"Why?" Fraser stepped to Ray's side and rested a hand on his shoulder,  
hoping to calm him down. "Who did you have to get here before?"

Ray glanced at him. "You must be as upset as I am, Frase. . . your grammar  
sucks."

"You said you had to get here first. Who else is coming??" Fraser's voice  
was rising.

All three of the Lone Gunmen looked worried now.

"It doesn't matter. We're here. And speaking of which, we should be going.  
All of us." Frohike started to get up.

Ray stared at the four nervous men. "Why? What's goin' on here?"

From behind him, there was a quiet click as the bedroom door opened.

The three Lone Gunmen stared past the partners with wide eyes.

"Shit," Langly muttered under his breath.

"You can say that again," Frohike hissed, trying to wedge himself between  
Langly and the couch back.

Byers just stared with huge eyes and whimpered slightly.

Very slowly, Fraser and Ray turned around.

A dark shape in the doorway flashed a gleam of white teeth. "Good morning,  
boys. I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting any of you in  
person before." He stepped out of the shadows. "I'm Alex Krycek. And  
you must be 'Terry'." He smiled slowly. "You're a lot prettier than I  
expected. A lot of these alien abductees have that inbred redneck look,  
you know?" His eyes darted over to Fraser. "And who's this?"

For once, Fraser was too shocked to speak. The man was mesmerizing, advancing  
slowly upon them with a slow, deliberate, cat-like swagger.

Beside  
him, he could faintly hear Ray trying to whisper,  
"C.. Constable. . . B-b-benton. . ."

He managed to make himself move enough to reach a hand out to squeeze  
Ray's arm. Ray closed his mouth.

Krycek took in the movement with a growing smile. "Oh I _see_. How  
interesting. But you've got _nothing_ on Scully, b-b-Benton, and  
I did just fine with Mulder, didn't I?"

Langly looked sick. Frohike looked offended. "Scully's gor--"

"I wasn't talking to you!" In one movement, Krycek had darted across  
the room and had a gun pressed to the man's temple. "But you didn't say  
anything, did you?"

Frohike's eyes bulged.

Krycek smiled and tucked the gun into his leather jacket. "Good." He  
turned his attention back to Fraser and Ray. "I guess you're probably  
wondering what we're doing here. Since they," he said  
scornfully, "didn't seem to be doing a very good job of explaining the  
situation."

Fraser glanced at Ray, who looked frozen. "Yes," he said quickly.

"Have a seat." Krycek waved at the floor. "Sit."

Fraser obeyed. Ray stayed standing, staring at the dark figure in the  
middle of his living room.

Krycek laughed. "How flattering. This isn't going to be a challenge at  
all." He walked up to Ray and put a hand to the detective's face, running  
his finger down the stubbly jaw line. "No challenge at all. . . it's  
sort of disappointing, actually." He dropped his hand to Ray's side and  
pulled out his gun, tossing it into a corner. Ray followed it with his  
eyes, the rest of his body unmoving.

For the first time since  
he'd arrived in Chicago, Fraser wished he had a gun. Or a knife. Or a  
stick. Or two teabags and a piece of waxed paper.

On the couch,  
the three Lone Gunmen winced in unison as Krycek trailed his fingers  
slowly up Ray's chest, paused to squeeze his shoulder gently, then slid  
his hand up to rest curved around his throat.

"This is ridiculous,"  
Fraser said aloud.Krycek turned to look at him. "What?"

"The  
four of us," he gestured at the cringing Gunmen, "might as well leave  
if you're just going to piddle around with my partner. I thought you  
were going to tell us why you're here."

Krycek sneered. "I am."  
He looked back at Ray and sighed. "I guess you'll wait. Right?"

Ray flashed a helpless look at Fraser. Fraser forced himself to wink  
at him.

"R. . .right." When Krycek had turned away from him,  
he flashed another look at Fraser. This one was a lot dirtier. One might  
almost call it evil.

Fraser suppressed a grin. Ray would be all  
right.

"So. You," Krycek gestured with an elbow at Ray, "posted about being  
abducted by aliens. Well, let me tell you, there are a lot of folks interested  
in people like you. A _lot_. Hell, if Mulder weren't uh, tied up  
at the moment," he winked at Langly, who dropped his head into his hands,  
"I'm sure he'd be here too. Now that, you should be grateful for. He's  
a hell of a guy, _god_ is he ever. . ."

He stared off into  
space for a minute, then blinked and quickly wiped away the trace of  
drool that was forming in the corner of his mouth. "He's a little preachy  
though. Always going on about the truth and garbage like that. A real  
pain in the ass, sometimes." He smirked. "So to speak."

Langly  
raised his head painfully. "Get to the point, Krycek. _Please._ "

Krycek gave him a dirty look. "Fine. The point is, I work for people  
who would love to hear about your little abduction experience. As for  
these three. . . I imagine they're running errands for Mulder. I'll bet  
they were going to try to take you to him. If they could find him." He  
grinned. "I can't _wait_ to get home. . ."

Fraser looked at Frohike for confirmation. "It's true," the man said,  
"Mulder called us and asked if we'd check out a posting on the messageboard  
he set up. We did all the computer work, expecting he'd follow up on  
it himself, the way he usually does, but then he called back at the last  
minute and said he was expecting a friend. . ." His voice trailed off.

"Ugh," said Langly loudly.

"See?" Krycek grinned at him. "It's absolutely mutual. Sure, it took  
a while before we could do anything really fun without beating the crap  
out of each other first, but hey, what's a little S&M between enemies?"

" _Ugh,_ " Langly repeated.

"So yeah. Here I am. And here they are, doing Mulder's dirty work. Unfortunately  
for Mulder, I'm in control here, so I'll be taking you back to Washington  
with me. To uh, pump you for information." He leered at Ray.

Fraser's fists clenched, but he forced himself to relax. "Could I come  
too? I've never been to Washington."

"What? Why?" Krycek paused.  
"Oh, you think you can protect your little boyfriend? Aw. . . how cute."

"Two for the price of one," Ray piped up suddenly.

Fraser blinked. Ray winked at him and grinned nastily.

"Oh dear. . ." he said quietly. Louder, he added, "Absolutely. And. .  
. and. . ."

Krycek frowned. "And what?"

Fraser tried desperately to think of every seductive move Ray had ever  
made that had made him want to fling him across a bed or a desk or a  
store counter or a saddle or-- it was no use. Every move that Ray made,  
period, made him want to do passionate hot sweaty things to him. He thought  
faster. Finally, he said lamely, "And I'm _Canadian_." From his  
position on the floor, he wiggled his shoulders back and forth, attempting  
to look seductive.

Ray was staring at him, an expression of horror  
on his face. Fraser risked a glance at the Gunmen. They too, were staring  
in shock. Had he gone too far? Was he. . . _too_ sexy?

Krycek  
burst out laughing.

Evidently not. Drat.

As Krycek rocked back and forth, slapping his thighs and giggling like  
a schoolgirl, Fraser noticed a slight movement out of the corner of his  
eye.

"I didn't think it was _that_ bad," he said loudly,  
doing his best to keep Krycek's attention.

Step by tiny step,  
Byers inched closer to the hysterical man. When he was right behind him,  
he nodded sharply at Fraser.

Fraser leapt to his feet and flung  
his arms wide, gyrating his hips madly. "Tell me this isn't sexy!" he  
cried.

Tears were pouring down Krycek's face. He paused for an  
instant to get a better look, then burst out laughing, harder than ever.  
As Fraser swiveled faster, he collapsed into a tiny shaking ball on the  
floor.

Instantly, Byers leapt.

There was a brief tussle, then silence. Krycek was pinned solidly to  
the floor beneath Byer's slender frame. "Got him," Byers said with satisfaction.

Langly and Frohike stared at him, awe-struck.

Fraser slowed his rotation. "Good work," he began, then was interrupted  
as Ray pounced on him from across the room, shoving him back against  
the desk in the corner.

"You're right," he breathed, practically wrapping his legs around Fraser's  
waist, "it _is_ sexy."

"Kids? I hate to interrupt, but.  
. ." Frohike gestured at the struggling Krycek. "We really should get  
moving while we've got the chance."

"Forget it," Ray murmured,  
sliding down onto the floor and pulling Fraser with him. "I'm not goin'  
anywhere. You want to talk to me, talk. But _hurry_."

Frohike  
glanced at Byers, who was starting to perspire. "You going to be okay?"

"Fine," Byers grunted tersely. "Go ahead."

"This way?" Frohike gestured at the bedroom. At the sight of Ray's raised  
eyebrows, he shrugged. "It's about the only privacy we're going to get,  
and I don't really want to let the rat know all our secrets."

From the floor, Krycek snarled. "I don't care, okay? Go off and talk.  
I don't care."

"I'll stay here too," Fraser said. "They aren't  
my secrets."

Frohike nodded approvingly. "He's a keeper," he  
said to Ray with a grin. "Not nosy. That's what you've got to look for  
in a partner."

As the two men went into the bedroom, Fraser could  
just make out the beginning of Ray's sarcastic retort as the door closed  
behind them.

Langly got up and wandered over. He stared at Krycek  
for a while, then bent down and poked him in the stomach.

"Agh!"  
Krycek writhed. "I am _so_ ticklish. . ."

Langly grinned.

* * *

It was almost an hour later when the bedroom door opened and Frohike  
and Ray finally emerged.

Fraser and Langly were sprawled on the  
couch, watching an infomercial for leg wax, Langly having tired of tormenting  
Krycek ten minutes earlier. Byers was still crouching over the fallen  
villain, his muscles quivering and sweat dripping down his beard. He  
looked up. "Done?" His voice trembled.

Frohike nodded and yawned. "It took us a while, but I think we've got  
it all sorted out. Right?"

Ray grinned tiredly. "Right. And thanks."

"No problem." Frohike paused in the hall. "Langly? Byers? Let's go, we've  
got to be back in Washington before Buffy comes on this evening."

From the floor, Krycek snorted. "Buffy? You're kidding me. It's all about  
this chick who kills vampires, right? How lame is that? Although I have  
to admit vampires themselves are cool. Male vampires, mind you."

Byers smiled as he hauled Krycek to his feet by the collar of his leather  
jacket. "Can I recommend a show to you?"

Frohike held the door  
open as Byers and Langly escorted their prisoner out into the hall. "Don't  
worry," he said, "We'll turn him over to Mulder as soon as we get back.  
I'm sure he'll be happy to see him." He rolled his eyes. "And it was  
nice meeting the both of you. If you're ever online again. . ." he paused,  
"Well, we'll know. And we'll be sure to say hi." He grinned. "See you  
around."

The door shut behind them and Ray collapsed against  
it with a loud sigh.

Fraser looked at him with concern. "Are  
you sure you're all right? You two were a long time in there."

"That didn't really happen, did it?" Ray let himself slide to the floor.  
"Three little geeks didn't just bust in in the middle of the night and  
then subdue an incredibly sexy man in the middle of my living room?"

"You think he's sexy?"

With tremendous effort, Ray raised his eyes to meet Fraser's. "Are you  
kiddin' me? Hell. . ." He paused. Looked at the big Mountie eyes. The  
big Mountie lips, quivering slightly. The big Mountie shoulders. The  
big Mountie chest. The big Mountie. . . "Hell no." He heaved himself  
up and collapsed forward into Fraser's waiting arms.

"Bed?"

"Mm," Ray grunted affirmatively.

Fraser started hauling him toward the bedroom. "What exactly did he say  
to you? Do you think you're going to have any more nightmares?" He dumped  
him gently on the bed.

Ray looked sheepish. "Nope."

"How do you know?" Fraser peeled himself rapidly out of his clothes and  
then got to work on Ray's.

"Cause he uh. . ."

"What?" Fraser paused in the middle of trying to disentangle Ray from  
his shoulder holster.

Ray grinned at him. "He found my dreamcatcher.  
It had fallen down behind the bed, and I guess I didn't notice. All that  
uh. . . you know. . . bed frame hittin' the wall and all that, musta  
knocked it down." He got impatient with Fraser's fumbling and slithered  
out of the holster himself. "So no more nightmares, now that it's back  
up."

Fraser smiled. "But. . ."

"What?" Ray inched up the bed slightly to bring the button of his jeans  
closer to Fraser's fingers.

"I mean. . . you don't think it might  
be better to deal with the problem than to avoid it?" It was hard to  
concentrate on the words.

"Oh, no sweat. I dealt with it." Ray  
wriggled out of his jeans. "We talked it out. See, apparently, it's not  
aliens at all."

"No?"

"It's all a big conspiracy. There's this secret society kinda thing,  
they're the ones controllin' everything. So they. . . mm. . . set it  
up so it looked like I and a whole bunch of other people got abducted,  
but really, they were just screwin' with us. Messin' with our heads to  
see how we'd react, I think." He shrugged. "Tell you the truth, I kind  
of got lost at that point. Anyway, then they lost track of some of us.  
Like me. Knew there was a good reason for takin' this assignment and  
goin' undercover." Ray grinned then squeaked with pleasant surprise.

"Not to mention meeting me. . . "

"Oh well, I think that escaping from the clutches of an evil syndicate  
was worth puttin' up with you for."

This time it was a yelp.

"I love you too, Ray," Fraser whispered. He wiggled his shoulders slightly.

Ray moaned.

Fraser grinned in the dark.

* * *

Kudos to anyone who caught the reference to a certain  
poorly-distributed Canadian film starring the always-lovable Dave Foley  
{g}.


End file.
